


Insomnia

by Deepdarkwaters



Series: Bespoke [6]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Old Married Couple, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: "I can't sleep," Harry says. He sounds exasperated about it and Merlin softens a bit, like he always does; this insomnia isn't exactly pleasant for Harry either."Something on your mind?""Nothing more than the usual." He hesitates, then keeps his voice light when he continues even though what he's saying isn't light at all. "You know, brutally slaughtering a dozen people this afternoon. Barely escaping having my entire body degloved by a madman. The same old nine to five."Merlin reaches for him, fumbling sleepily against his hair and hip and arm until his fingers find Harry's hand and curl around it, drawing it closer over the space between them and gently kissing his bruised, scuffed knuckles. "Take a sleeping pill like everybody else.""Everybody else isn't a Judy Garland fan," Harry says darkly.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompt on tumblr: _dunno if you're still doing prompts but im having a bad (sleepless) night, so figured I'd spend a part of it asking if you've got any short fluff and/or smut with the two ridiculous old-married-couple Merlin and Harry up your sleeve? Bonus points if one of them's having a bad sleepless night to begin with._

There are many, many upsides to being married to Harry Hart, including such things as:

* the rosemary beef stew and fresh bread he makes on the rare days he's off and Merlin's still at work, because he still remembers the one time they happened to walk past a house with open kitchen windows in 1985 and Merlin made an offhand comment about all the delicious scents wafting out.

* his truly spectacular arse in its various tailored trousers, and the casual way he finds excuses to bend over and pick things up off the floor or tie a loose shoelace any time he's in Merlin's presence because he has absolutely no sense of shame.

* his face, obviously. Specifically the expressions upon it: the coolly amazed stare any time someone says something unforgivably rude; the way a sudden smile brings out the dimples in his cheeks and a lifetime of laughter lines; the slow, faux-innocent Bambi blink when he's pretending not to understand someone's idiotic comment and wants them to explain it until they realise what a prick they're being; the flush that only ever rises in his face when he's being fucked, like a manga scribble across his cheekbones; and the limpid, soft look he gets in his eyes sometimes when Merlin realises he's being suspiciously quiet and glances up from his work or his book to catch Harry _gazing_ , as if they're still twenty-something years old and tentatively flirting between missions instead of almost thirty years into something they intend to hold on to until they die.

The downsides are fewer and mostly boil down to _how fucking fidgety he gets when he can't sleep_.

"Mmfgh," Merlin grumbles, face pressed into his pillow. It made actual words in his head, but they don't form properly in his mouth until Harry wriggles again, jabbing him with an elbow as he turns around, and Merlin lifts his face out of his pillow dent to peer at him through the darkness. "What's wrong with you? Ants in your pants?"

"I can't sleep," Harry says. He sounds exasperated about it and Merlin softens a bit, like he always does; this insomnia isn't exactly pleasant for Harry either.

"Something on your mind?"

"Nothing more than the usual." He hesitates, then keeps his voice light when he continues even though what he's saying isn't light at all. "You know, brutally slaughtering a dozen people this afternoon. Barely escaping having my entire body degloved by a madman. The same old nine to five."

Merlin reaches for him, fumbling sleepily against his hair and hip and arm until his fingers find Harry's hand and curl around it, drawing it closer over the space between them and gently kissing his bruised, scuffed knuckles. "Take a sleeping pill like everybody else."

"Everybody else isn't a Judy Garland fan," Harry says darkly. "No, thank you."

"Speak to the psychiatrist, then. That's what we employ her for."

"Last time James did that she took him off duty for two weeks. Who's going to do the Moscow thing if I'm grounded? Bors? The man couldn't charm his own wife, let alone someone else's."

Merlin lets Harry's hand go and scrubs his fingertips into his eyes, trying to wake up enough to have this conversation. "She doesn't order rest unless it's needed, you know. She doesn't get a nice fat cash bonus every time we have to stretch resources to cover when someone's out of action."

"No. I know." Harry huffs an irritated sigh out through his nose, then twists onto his side and shuffles closer, making the mattress bounce and squeak, until his backside is nestled comfortably against Merlin's crotch. "Arm," he demands softly, then when Merlin obliges him with a tight hug around his bare chest he adds, "Kiss."

"Will it help you sleep and therefore help _me_ sleep?"

He can hear the smile in Harry's voice even though he can't see his face. "That depends on where you kiss, I imagine."

"How about here?" Merlin murmurs, lips just barely touching the edge of Harry's ear.

"Mmm, no, not quite."

Lips brushing a tickling trail down to the back of Harry's neck: "Here?"

"Lovely, but several inches too high and entirely the wrong side of the body."

"Tell me how it's fair that you're the one who can't get to sleep but I'm the one who's going to have to put in all the effort to wear you out?"

"I never claimed it was _fair_ ," Harry says reasonably, "only that I want it."

Merlin's wandering fingers come to rest on the front of Harry's silky pyjama trousers, tracing the shape of the soft bulge there. "Do you? Not very much, from the feel of it."

"Well, that's why you need to kiss it first."

"I'm not getting up to brush my teeth again. You'll have to make do with your imagination." Merlin feels blindly for the right bit of the drawstring to pull to loosen the bow at Harry's waistband, then slips his hand inside and very gently starts to stroke Harry's sleepy soft cock. "Remember the nights you'd wake up jabbing me in the back or the thigh and it took me about four seconds to get you off? Sometimes I swear I'd fall right back into the same dream I was having, it was so quick."

Harry's voice is full of laughter again. "God, I miss the eighties." He twists his head back, clumsily aiming a kiss that glances off the slope of Merlin's nose. "This is nice. Just this."

"You won't come from this."

"No," Harry agrees, "but I feel like a fussed cat. It's delicious."

At any other hour of the day or night, Merlin might make some dry comment about usually fussing a cat on the head or under the chin, not by the unmentionables. But there's something quiet and secret about lying here together in the darkness with only the sound of their breathing mingled in the air and the slide of warm fabric on the back of his hand, and he doesn't want to break the sweetness and the stillness for something so wry. He bends his head, burying his nose in the ruffled curls at the back of Harry's head - free of all hair product for once - to inhale him, the lingering spice of the shampoo he used earlier and the familiar faint musk of fresh sweat.

"Go to sleep, my darling," he murmurs - _my darling_ , turning Harry's favoured term of endearment back on him because it always makes him do the dimpled, lovely smile, even though Merlin can't see it. "I'll be here."

"I know you will," Harry says. He sounds sleepier already, voice raised barely above a whisper as though he's starting to feel hypnotised by the soft, slow motion of Merlin's fingers curled around his cock.

"And if this doesn't help, tomorrow night I'll fucking handcuff you to the bed to stop you squirming," Merlin whispers, but he waits until Harry's finally asleep to threaten him otherwise he'll demand it immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://deepdarkwaters.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Leave prompts here if there's anything you want to see!](http://deepdarkwaters.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
